Small Chance of a Freedom
by Ms. Audrey G
Summary: Having an affair was never on her mind, Kotoko was better than that; however, Irie's lack of attention is causing her to have second thoughts of being with Keita behind his back. AU
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Itazura na Kiss will never be mine.**  
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**Notes**: Unlike _Falling into the Sun, _this story will be revolved around Kotoko's marriage. And since this AU, the story is introduce on a what if scenario. What if Kotoko decides to see Keita more often than she shouldn't, not because she loves him as much as Irie, but because she just wants to feel affection from someone since her husband is ignoring her. I don't know how often I would update, considering that I still don't have a clear grasp of how I want the ending to be. I will try to update as often as I can, just like with my other story, but not entirely sure on that.

**Warning**: There will be a sexual content, language, and minimal amount of violence.

**Setting**: After Kotoko leaves the bar/restaurant, and Keita chases after her.

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**Small Chance of Freedom**

There were many things Kotoko wasn't.

She wasn't a liar. She wasn't a woman who takes advantage of her husband. She wasn't a cold-hearted person to turn away the needy. She wasn't a lazy person; on the contrary, she was full of energy. And most of all, she didn't go around kissing other people. Well, that is what she kept telling herself for the past hour.

The situation that she placed herself in was not because she wanted to be placed in it. All she wanted was to feel loved. Irie kept pushing her away, and she had no one to hold her, not the way her husband held her. But when she touched Keita's arm, she felt that his hug was quite similar to his. That is why she couldn't help but turn and embrace him back.

And when he ensue the kiss after, she didn't mean to press her lips against his. For a moment, she thought he was Irie. No matter how many times she told herself that, she knew that reason alone was not acceptable enough of why she kissed him. In the end of the day, it all came down to one main reason: she simply wanted to feel loved.

She simply wanted a man to shower her with affection. And Keita was the only man that gave her the attention. He may be younger than her. He may be constantly pushing her to be the best. Despite it all, he at least showed that he cared for her, and muttered sweet sayings to her ear that made her blush.

Keita was the one she should have met first.

In the end, she had to pull away. She had to shake her head and denied his request of leaving Irie. She dallied enough time, and Irie may be worried. But when he assured that Irie wasn't going to care, she burst into tears because she knew that he was telling the truth. However, she couldn't do it. If there is one thing that Kotoko was that she was beyond loyal to her husband. The thought of having an affair never crossed her mind.

But when she looked at Keita, and saw the affection in his eyes, she couldn't help but want to stay a bit longer with him, knowing that time wasn't exactly on her side. Then he drew in close, and her heart began to race. She couldn't slip away, not when his hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her away to a secluded place.

In the dark of the night, he gave her another kiss, and this time she responded with hesitation. There were a few things that Kotoko wasn't, but being with Keita erased what type of person she was. At the moment, she could care less. Irie didn't love her.

When she found his hand pulling down the sleeve of her dress, exposing her right breast, she realized right there that she couldn't go through with it. She hastily pulled away, muttering out apologies, and for them to forget of what happened and resumed with their lives. He, however, couldn't let it go.

"I can't just forget," he said. "You don't understand how much I care for you."

"We are just filling our hearts with lust. We don't love each other. We simply feel lonely," she explained to him, hoping for him to see reason as to why they couldn't resume their previous actions.

"What happens if I told you that I didn't care? I would do anything to make it possible for us to be together."

She denied his dream with a stomp of her foot. "You can't have me! I'm a married woman!"

"Kotoko." He reached to grab her hand, but she kept pulling away.

"I have to go," she said. With a sad smile, she fled from his sight, ignoring her name being shouted from behind. Her actions of allowing him to kiss her, and touch her, made her feel guilty of ever turning around and embracing him in the first place. She wished that he would forget about it, but how could he forget when he had a touch of her as she had a taste of him?

Heading home was by far the most difficult thing to do. She couldn't dare enter into her home, not from what she had done. Instead she allowed the seconds to drag, taking a seat outside the main entrance as she stared at her shoes. The night was growing chilly. Shivering, she knew she couldn't stand the cold any longer.

The warmth of her bed sounded heavenly at the moment. Taking the courage to enter her warm haven, she opened the door and closed it behind her. Looking ahead, she knew everyone would be sleeping as the lights were completely off. Taking off her shoes, she placed them inside the drawer next to the door and walked toward the stairs.

The door to the living room swung open. Light flooded her sight before it disappeared. Standing in front of her was Irie. He did not look at her, but head up the stairs. She hurriedly rushed behind him.

With her guilt growing, she had nothing to say. She merely changed into her clothing and slipped into bed. With her back toward him, she waited for sleep to consume her, but after an hour she knew that she couldn't sleep, not when her mind kept replaying the incident from before. Her phone vibrated in the night. She held in her breath and looked over her shoulder. Irie was soundlessly asleep.

Pulling the sheets off her body, she carefully got off the bed and silently crept to her bag. There was a text message waiting to be read. She looked behind her shoulder, making sure that Irie was still asleep. And he was, hardly aware that she left the bed.

Checking the text message, she smothered her gasp with a hand.

"_I miss you," _it read.

Keita knew that she couldn't respond, not with Irie sleeping behind her. Deleting the message quickly, she went back to bed, hiding the phone under her pillow. There was no way she would allow Irie to touch her phone, knowing that Keita would probably send messages that would put her on the spot if her husband ever found out.

This was her secret to the grave.

She couldn't have noticed through her fright, but Irie was quite aware of her being secretive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Fingers were strapping her down, firmly grabbing a hold of her waist. She tucked her head closer to her chest, feeling a hand coursing up her belly to grasp her right breast. There was a grunt followed by the whisper of her name. She wanted to turn around and face the man who set her body on fire by a simple touch, but he refused to let her see his face. There was no need, however, to learn the man's identity when her body automatically responded to his touch.

She usually didn't start the game of seduction, surprisingly. Irie was the one in control, and the one that needed to ravish her body with his powerful thrusts and teasing nips. He was passionate at times, but on higher occasions, he was rough. He enjoyed dominating her body, but hearing the cries of his name break through her lips drove him on edge she noticed.

Unfortunately, and to her sadness, she knew that this was a dream as if it was expressing her sexual frustration of not having the real thing. It's been a week, perhaps two, since the last time he touched her. The unknown reason as to why his cold attitude was directed toward her will forever remain a mystery. Therefore, in the sanctum of her dream world state, she indulged in the passionate love she was receiving from the conjured up persona representing her husband.

She felt him pull back. The resounding pop of their dripping cum was heard, along with a disappointing sigh leaving her lips. His mother would surely smell the sex in the air if she dared enter their room, but Mrs. Irie will not enter—this was her dream, it was hers to control. Mistakes were not welcomed. Irie was all that mattered.

He turned her to face him, instantly bringing his lips to descend upon hers and savoring her tongue with each passionate kiss. Her hands were thrown around his neck, securing him tightly between her lips. With her legs thrown around his waist, her bare rear touching the desk behind her, he began to position himself and resume his thrusting. Their passionate kiss was broken, taken by the sheer amount of moaning she needed to exuberate.

In the peak of her organism, she threw her head back, exposing her neck to his assault of showering kiss trailing from the bottom of her ear to her shoulder blade. And with her mouth opening wide to express his name in a cry of love, she felt his lips spread into a smile against her flesh, squeezing her breast further to bring her delight.

In a jolt, however, her dream of their lovemaking shattered. The perspiration on her forehead was beaded in drops. Her light skin contrasted against the dark sheets, unbothered by the fact that her neckline was exposed. She had hope that he would lean over and take a sample of her flesh with a nip of his teeth, but, alas, his spot was barren from his presence.

She was alone in bed, his warmth lingering still in the sheets.

There were times when he would tease her in the morning. Those were the moments she missed the most. He would awaken her from her slumber in a shower of kisses, fingers dancing playfully against her thighs. Feeling moist between the legs, she would slowly become aware that his member was positioned against her entrance, and eyes taking in her hazy state.

How she missed his touch, the feeling of his flesh against hers, and his thin lips taking her breath away in a fiery kiss. And his gray eyes, how she missed those gray eyes, portraying his inner-feelings, the detection of his deep love could be seen through them and behind his soft smile.

But those days were gone, taken by a mystery.

She let out a sigh, turning her body to face the direction of the wall beside her. Class would begin soon. She hardly knew the time since her mind was cluttered with solutions to resolve the problems between her and Irie. And as she slipped her hand underneath her pillow, and shut her eyes momentarily, she realized that something was missing.

In horror, realization dawned upon her in a flash. She sat up in haste, throwing the pillow to a side, and noticed that, indeed, her phone was missing. She began to move her feet off the bed, pondering on her phone's location. She looked underneath the bed. Barren, and speckled with light dust, her phone was not there. She threw the covers to a side. White, wrinkled sheets greeted her desperate eyes.

Her breathing became rapid. Fear began to settle in the pits of her stomach. Her throat became raw. Her mind turned blank. She did not know where her phone was, but the thought of Irie taking it made her blood run cold.

Desperately, she turned toward their bedroom door before her earlier assumption became a confirmation. There, leaning against the door, was her husband. His arms were crossed, his expression was emotionless. Casually dressed in V-neck, white shirt, and blue jeans, he looked handsome, not a blemish in sight on his perfect skin, but she noted, with a suppressing gasp, the light purple color underneath his eye. The man was tired, dumped by the overload of schoolwork he needed to complete, and excessive exhaustion of staying up at night to study.

Kotoko felt guilty, but her guilt quickly fled when fear took a hold of her again. In his left hand, clutched tightly between his fingers and palm, a pink cellphone was seen. Swallowing her fear, she dared not look into his eyes, afraid of what she would find.

She heard movement stirring from his direction. Briefly, she glanced upward, noticing that he had leaned off the wall, arms now settled to a side. His eyes, however, remain entirely onto her, and she knew that she couldn't dare look away from coldness that he was displaying. Quietly, he approached, dreading the light taps drawing closer to her rigid form and their queen-size bed.

He came to a stop and set the phone on the end of the mattress.

"Motoki called. He wanted to confirm if you had completed your assignment."

In the recess of her memories, she clearly remembered the assignment she needed to turn in this week.

"I just have to revise it."

He seemed to contemplate her words before his eyes slightly narrowed.

"The consistent ringing of your phone was becoming annoying so I grabbed it." His narrowed eyes never left her sight. "Tell me, Kotoko, why do you have it under your pillow?"

She gulped and licked her lips. "I set the alarm on my phone. I guess I failed to wake up."

Amused, he carried on, "You should've learned by now. You fail at everything." She cringed at his cold words. "But wouldn't the proper place be on top of the nightstand? It would give you the chance to hear it instead of the sound being muffled under your pillow." He took a step forward, closer to her frozen form. "It still doesn't make sense. Why would you have it under your pillow?"

"I was tired. I had it in my hands, and I barely remembered where I placed it." She tried to convince him, but he wasn't buying her lie.

In fact, he looked rather bored with his interrogation and simply began to retreat, not a word emitted as his retreating steps reached the door. Then a sound pierced the tension that filled the room. Kotoko was barely aware that she held in a breath when her eyes frantically dashed toward the source. It came from her phone.

Turning her head to Naoki, he resumed towards the door as the sound of his departure came as a loud slam closing behind him.

Finally, her breath was set loose as she crumbled to the floor, pressing a hand against her beating heart. Blank, and staring at the ground in shock, she dare not move from her spot, lightly hearing her phone ringing in the background of her blank state. Soon, her phone was quiet, and the sound of the clock took its place.

Tick after tick, time was slipping from her fingers. She had to get dress for school, but the thought of moving from her secure spot made her hesitate. However, she knew that school was important, and that her hesitation, mostly coming from her fear, needed to be pushed aside for the sake of her future. Although, she couldn't help but feel that Irie knew the truth of her actions from yesterday as the evidence of her phone being gripped in his hand was proof enough. Despite her logical reason of his anger, she was in a firm denial, shaking away the ludicrous thought with a twist of her head moving side-to-side.

Slowly, she stood on her feet, letting her hand grasp on to the sheets, anything for reality to sink in and for her to realize that this was not a dream. When the sound of her phone began to alert her of an incoming message, she knew, at that moment, how harsh reality can be, and how desperate she wished for all of this to fade away like a dream.

Grabbing her phone, she opened the text message.

_We need to talk._

Kotoko slammed her phone shut, not bothering to reply to Keita. Heading to the bathroom to do her necessities, and returning to her room to change, Kotoko squeezed the books in her hands, and descended down the stairs. Mrs. Irie was nowhere to be seen. Yuuki had long left. As for her husband, she began to realize that the silence invading the room was not her imagination. Irie had left, without waiting, without giving her any reassurance that he doubted her for a second. He left for an explicit reason, and she knew that reason had driven him to lose his mind to rage.

And if that wasn't proof enough that he was angry with her, the yellow note sticking on the table surely proved her point.

_Don't bother looking for me. I'll be busy all day, and will be coming home at the time I feel necessary._

The note slipped from her fingers. Soon, the silence was shattered by the sound of her books falling to the ground harshly as a gasp slipped her lips, trying her best to smother her shock with both hands. Although, she restrained herself from crying out loud, she could not, however, stop the tears from falling down her cheeks.

Irie knew about her encounter with Keita. He had to have known; otherwise, what other excuse justified his behavior. Although, two weeks ago, he refused to speak to her for no obvious reason, always pondering on the cause of his reluctance to speak and touch her. She highly believed that his anger still radiated from the unknown mystery that brought him to distance himself away from her.

She checked her phone. Motoki did call more than twice. That gave her hope that Irie did not know of her secret, but still, it did not take away her fear that something terrible was about to happen.

Taking her away from her thoughts, her phone began to vibrate against her palm. It was a text message from Keita. Swallowing her tears, she opened the message.

_Please talk to me. I need you to talk to me. Please._

Kotoko knew that she couldn't avoid him forever. They shared the same major, lessening her chance of avoiding his existence to a minimal. She knew she needed to make Keita believe that their relationship was merely based on friendship, not on love. With a shaky breath, she began to type her message.

_Meet me before class. _

As she turned her phone away from her vision, she was hardly aware that she was allowing Keita into her life, unwillingly returning his affection.

xx

Keita waited for her to arrive at the location she provided. Standing in front of the pond, the green tufts growing abundantly around his feet, he forced his body to relax to the peaceful scenery, yet his pacing heart did not ease his nerves. He looked behind him. White fences were aligned the long, narrow path that separated the Nursing building from the English department. Along the path, benches were placed and trees were planted to give it a more relaxing mood.

He held his grip on his backpack with one hand, turning his attention back to the pond. Familiarly adapting to the sounds around him, he listened to the trees rustling, the students chattering behind him, and the sound of a female's voice beckoning for his attention.

His eyes grew wide. That voice distinctively belonged to one person. When he turned around to confirm his doubts, he did not realize that he let out a breath when his eyes came in contact with a nervous Kotoko.

"You wanted to see me?"

Her voice, soft as a light feather, was stripped from her cheeriness, and had taken a nervous, shaky tone. He wanted to comfort her, but he was afraid to touch her, afraid that she would flee from his sight the minute he poured out his heart toward her. Instead, he remained calm under the dying pressure of wanting to smash his lips against her, and gave her a shy smile.

She did not give one in return. Her attention concentrated on the area around her as if she thought someone was going to jump out and frighten her, most presumably her husband. He gritted his teeth at the thought of Irie, and allowed his fingers to dig into his palm to hold back the rage against the man who cared little for his wife.

"Yes, I wanted to talk to you about yesterday."

She snapped his attention toward him and shook her head. She brought her books to her chest, clutching them tight as a protective barrier covering her heart. He wanted nothing more but to lower her arms and break into her barrier, allowing him a chance to win her love. In the end, he did not rely on his instinct to cradle her in his arms.

"I don't want to talk about it. Let's forget it ever happened. Let's move on," she pleaded.

He couldn't accept her plea, however. His love ran too deep that it even conquered his dreams. Refusing her request, he gave her a soft shake of his head. She took a step back, putting a bit more distance between them.

"Kotoko." On instinct, he began to reach for her.

She turned away from his touch, giving him her shoulder. It felt like a slap to the face as he withheld his hand and rested it by his side.

"I told you to forget. Let's not speak of this again."

And once again, she left from his sight in rapid steps.

xx

Kotoko blindly made her way toward the Nursing building, her expression blank, her mouth partially opened. She held on to her books with her dear life. She never lifted her head to scan the area around her.

Irie was glad that she didn't. Otherwise, she would have spooked the minute she saw him, taking in the dark expression covering his face, the telltale sign of a man looking for blood. She would've prevented him from hurting the man that was obviously trying to win her affection by throwing her body in front of him, the same body that he wanted to touch and control under his aggressive thrusting of his hips.

Agonizing at the memory of her body arching, and his name slipping in a breathless whisper, he had to concentrate his hatred toward Keita before the powerful sensation of lust took control and awaken his limp member to a solid erection. His rival seemed unnoticed of the glare that was sent to his direction as he sluggishly followed behind his wife with light steps.

Something was occurring between them. He knew that for a fact. After talking to Motoki, he wanted to check the contents of her phone to ease the suspicion he had toward her. Although, he found himself unable to do so—for he was afraid of what he would discover, but he should've when he remembered how desperate she was on searching for it. Leaning against the door, he had waited for her to awaken, but at the sight of her body responding to a dream that she was having—a dream that was surely about him—had awaken the deep lust inside of him. He had wanted nothing more but to satisfy his primary needs at that moment. And he would have but the suspicion of another man touching her prevented him from coming close.

He knew Kotoko would never betray him. It was rather the other, Keita to be exact, that presented to be a bad influence to his wife. A harsh breeze slip past him, noticing the strands of her long hair fluttering to a side as she involuntary shivered. His eyes fleeted toward the man walking far from her, his gray shirt ruffling to the breeze.

And in one single second, Keita discovered his presence, his light steps coming to a halt. In the midst of the students chatting amiably among each other, no one ever noticed the intensity between their lock gaze. Irie gave him a predatorily smile, eyes gleaming with a promise of destroying the other if he dare touch his mate.

Aware of his possessive hand over the delicate flower, Kotoko, his opponent began to withdraw. Irie began to scowl when he noticed the defiance in his eyes. Keita wasn't going to easily back down.

Slowly, he trudged behind him, feeling an overwhelming sensation bind his heart with a deep motive to destroy the man ahead of him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Temptation could be cruel. She never presumed to gaze at Keita's lips with unfathomable lust. It was horribly wrong to want another. She had Irie—no one else could replace him. However, those lips drew her in when it curved up into a faint smile—a smile that was not directed to her, but to Tomoko.

_That's right,_ she thought, _Tomoko likes Keita_. Her mission was set. Keita and Tomoko deserve to be with each other. It pained her heart a little, and she didn't know why, but she presumed it was because somehow she grew attached to his affection and wanted nothing more but to feel more of it.

However, it was wrong in the end to want a lustful relationship. She would deny ever seeking for one when she had Irie to meet her sexual needs. Although, her marriage was teetering over the edge of destruction; Irie began to revert to his old, cold persona. He has always treated her coldly. After all, he cared for her success. However, she knew the difference between caring and cruelty. Irie was falling more into the latter.

She stared at her notes. She should be paying attention to the instructor. Nursing was hard already and her lack of attention was tripling the level of difficulty. She glanced toward Tomoko's notes. Her hand fluently wrote down the information with ease.

"Tomoko," she whispered. Her blond friend glanced at her. Kotoko took it that she was paying attention to her. "Can I talk to you after class?"

Her friend muttered, "Sure," and resumed listening to the instructor. When the hour passed, lunch arrived. She saved her notes and books. Motoki and Marina were intently following their every step. Keita glanced from time to time. She locked eyes with him, noticing the hurt of being rejected.

Rejection… She knew the feeling almost too well. This time it was her rejecting the feelings of someone else, not the other way around. Kotoko silently vowed to make it up to Keita. After all, he still has a chance with Tomoko. Turning away forcibly, she pulled Tomoko by the hand, her protests of gathering her school utensils fell on deaf ears.

The others would grab the rest of Tomoko's things. Kotoko needed to speak to her immediately. Guiding her away from the Nursing building, she took the longer route to the cafeteria.

"What's wrong, Kotoko?"

She nervously laughed and spun on her ballad flats. With a smile, she beamed wholeheartedly toward her friend.

"Do you like Keita?"

Tomoko flabbergasted at her straightforward approach. "N-n-no, I don't see him that way."

Her grip on her books tightened. Nervously, she scanned the ground below her feet, pondering if she misunderstood. She questioned her a second time. Hope gripped her heart that Tomoko was denying it; however, her stomach tingled with a faint glee. She ignored the feeling entirely.

"Are you sure?"

Tomoko smiled sincerely. "I'm sure. I don't understand why you think I like him."

"Well, you were worried about him when I took blood out of him."

"Oh…" She blushed. "I think you misunderstood. I…"

Her explanation became mute in the background. Kotoko's attention had caught the sight of her dashing husband. She immediately turned her eyes over to him, taking in his tidy hair; his lean, but muscular frame. He donned his white coat, hands saved in the pockets. By his side, a colleague from his caliber spoke. Irie listened to his every word, hardly noticing his wife from afar.

"Tomoko…" A soft, "hmm," was heard. She glanced toward her direction. Her friend knew exactly what diverted her attention. "I'll catch you later."

Tomoko smiled generously. "I understand. Catch you later." Her steps slipped past her and headed toward the cafeteria.

Irie, engrossed in the conversation, kept walking further away from her. She took a step forward hesitantly followed by another. Soon, her hesitation diminished and her stride became confident. He continued to walk without noticing her. Kotoko picked up her pace, catching up to his long strides.

Stopping a short distance from him, she shouted, "Irie!"

He stopped and acknowledged her presence. His colleague noticed her as well. Smiling at him, she gave a small wave. Her greeting was harshly ignored when he blankly turned his head away from her. His colleague sputtered at the cold display. She lowered her hand to rest underneath her book.

Sorrow—how she despised the feeling. It fluttered throughout her body like a stampede smashing her lean frame into bits. The pounding of her heart painfully became twisted, controlling the movement of her head to lower and shield her eyes. When her body became broken, and her heart became weak, the tears would finally arrive, leaking from her eyes to trail down her flushed cheeks.

Sorrow, as she mentioned, was an emotion she hated the most. However, she forcibly pushed it back when she heard a loud, baritone voice shout, "Chris, resist! Chris!"

Kotoko paid attention to her friend, noticing in his arms Christine. Her expression contorted in agony. She mustered the courage to restrain her mouth from opening in fear that her screams would fright Kinnosuke, and perhaps even drop her. Her pale hands automatically gripped his shoulder blades when she hissed, closing her eyes shut to block out the unbearable pain.

Dropping her eyes to her leg, Kotoko noticed the raw flesh in contrast of her pale complexion burned. Christine needed medical attention immediately. She hurriedly joined her husband's side, acutely aware of his piercing eyes falling on her for a moment. She felt out of place. It would be best for her to leave and let her husband handle the injured woman, but she persisted, wanting to be available for any task that Irie might find her useful to do.

"Calm down," she heard him say. "Tell me what happened."

Calm, and collected, her husband was an inspiration. He knew exactly what to do in a tense situation. Meanwhile, she nervously nipped her bottom lip, wanting nothing more but to take the injured girl to the hospital ward and inspect her wounds immediately. Hugging her books tightly to her chest, she collected her emotions and tried to be impassive to the situation such as her husband.

Kinnosuke replied, "She burned her leg with hot oil!"

Her impassive stance failed in the end. She couldn't help but gasp and bring a hand to her lips.

"We should call an ambulance!" she urged. Irie ignored her advice.

"It would be faster to take her to our hospital ward on campus," he advised Kinnosuke. Without waiting for a response, he added, "Come on. Let's go."

Kinnosuke nodded his head at his instruction. His colleague led the way to the hospital ward. At the same time, he had his phone to his ear, giving information of the girl's status to the primary doctor in lead of the hospital ward. He picked up his pace, Kinnosuke followed behind him obediently.

Kotoko headed toward their direction as well. Her preoccupation of Christine's injury held her in nervousness. The constant question, "Would she be alright?" plagued her mind as a broken record repeating the same tune.

Following behind their every step, a hand stopped her from taking another step when it gripped her shoulder-blade. She shuddered at the touch and looked at the owner who possessed the hand. Irie looked down at her. His height was intimidating to her small stature. She never felt so small under his gray emotionless eyes.

He put pressure on her shoulder-blade, wincing when she felt his nails dig into her skin, before he pulled his hand away and ambled forward. Her eyes lowered to the ground, not wanting to meet his emotionless eyes. It scared her how much he managed to revert back to his old ways in a couple of days.

She finally looked up and noticed that he was staring at her.

"Stay," he commanded.

Christine's painful expression came to mind. She took one step forward, gripping her books tightly to her chest to withhold her rage. Anger was the last thing that she needed at the moment when her friend was injured.

"I have to go!" she protested.

He 'hmphed' and tore his gaze away from her. "You will only be in the way."

"That's not true! I can help!"

His eyes came back to her in a second. And in its depths, she met his fury.

"I said stay! I don't need your carelessness around!"

"Irie—I…"

He gritted between his teeth, "Don't upset me."

Her protests died on her lips the minute he turned and ran toward the hospital ward. He didn't want her around—that was clear. However, Kinnosuke and Christine might need her. She couldn't let him come between her friends, especially when she was concern for one of them. Knowing that her husband might be upset of her decision, she ran after him, dropping her books carelessly to a side.

She didn't care about anything anymore. She just wanted to be useful to somebody—even if that person wasn't her husband. Her brash decision did not help her realize how valuable her books would become to her in the future. If only she turned and picked them up, she would have avoided the confrontation that will transcend hours from now.

But it was already too late. She ran with all her might toward the hospital ward, while her books were carefully picked up from the ground and held securely in Keita's arms.

xx

Keita knew he was being selfish.

He knew he was when he began to plot on how to steal Kotoko away from Irie's presence to be with him. Giving up on the girl he loved was the last thing on his mind—even though he knew it should've been the first and foremost thing to do. However, his stubbornness couldn't take her rejection.

He needed her. And he knew that she needed him as well. Irie was the problem. The man needed to disappear. However, it was inevitable. Irie was graciously given a vibrant, sweet woman, and he mockingly took her as a joke. If it was him, he would've treated her as a princess—no, more as a queen. He would've given her everything in exchange to see a smile grace her lips.

But, most importantly, he would want in her devotion and love in return as well. That is all that he wanted, nothing more. Irie could probably never understand how lucky he is for being wed to Kotoko. The man was blind, but Keita wasn't. It would be a matter of time before Kotoko would realize that she is better off without her husband.

He merely had to wait for her to notice him as a man, not a friend. Then, again, patience was never his strongest traits. Her books were laid across his bed. In his hand, he gripped his phone and stared at the screen.

Her name was highlighted in blue. All he needed to do was to push the button to dial her number. It would be disheartening to see her sadden that she was taken away from her husband. Kotoko worshipped him, and Keita couldn't deny that a part of him wished that she would worship him too. In the end, there would be nothing to stop the inevitable.

He needed her in his life; although, a part of him knew that stealing her away from her husband was not considered correct. It didn't matter when he began to think about Irie's cruelty toward his wife. Kotoko deserved better, and he had to show that to her.

He knew he was being selfish, but Keita couldn't give a damn. He dialed her number and sought to see her. With her books sprawled on his bed, he knew that she would come to him in the end—even if he took a cheap shot to persuade her to come.

xx

Apologies were hard to extract out of Irie. Never would she hear the words, "I'm sorry" come out of his lips. Instead, he apologized in an entirely different way by treating her nicely and passionately making love to her. That was his way of apologies and she respected that he, at least, tried to make it up to her.

After the incident with Christine, and Kinnosuke proposing to her at the hospital ward, Kotoko never felt pleased to discover that her two friends were finally getting married. Her mood became even more thrilled when Irie was being apologetic to his brash behavior from earlier. Gradually, everything was returning to normal. The tension between them dispersed. He softly plucked the hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ears. She blushed and smiled at him.

In his eyes, she saw his love glow. But his actions spoke an entirely different emotion. He casually lowered his hand and rested it on her thigh for a moment. Rapidly, he took it away and continued his conversation with his parents.

She lowered her eyes, hoping no one noticed the red glow on her cheeks. And to her relief, no one did. His sensual gesture was regarded as a touch of concern. But she knew that he purposely touched her thigh to show that he was ready to ravish her body; ready to feel her flesh against his own and take her breath away from his dominating lips.

She had to escape from the living room. Irie was making her remember the sound of his heavy grunting and the feel of his hand touching her naked flesh when she turned her head and met his expression. It was the same expression he used when he stared at her from above as she laid underneath him, moaning his name.

He looked at her with a sneer, his eyes glowing with possession. She felt his hand touch her fingers briefly. He crossed his legs and rested an elbow against the headrest of the yellow couch.

"Here you go, Kotoko." Mrs. Irie brought her a distraction when she presented her a cup of tea. Taking the white, porcelain cup, she nervously held it between her hands. Again, she brought up Kinnosuke and his proposal, anything to distract herself from looking down at his crotch.

"You mentioned that five times already," she heard her husband say. Those gray eyes of his observed her, oblivious to his parents and brother's eyes. They were distracted by a comment made by his mother. Lowering her cup, she didn't realize how her hand was trembling until she dropped her cup on the table, watching the tea spill and mar the chocolate coffee table with its imperfection.

"Your clumsiness never ceases to amaze me," her husband stated.

She mumbled under her breath, "I'm sorry."

Uncrossing his legs, he quietly grabbed a tissue from its box and cleaned up the mess. Thankfully, his mother left the box of tissues on the table; otherwise, she would've panicked and made a bigger mess.

Mrs. Irie laughed behind the palm of her hand, distracting Irie for a moment.

"What is it?"

She lowered her hand from her mouth. "It seems Chris, such as you, found your ideal partner." A smile took her lips. "How sweet!"

"I wouldn't be considered ideal…" Kotoko muttered under her breath, blushing at the comment.

Irie rolled his eyes. "Go get a damp cloth to clean this up properly."

Forgetting her careless mistake, she tapped her head with a soft knuckle and got up from her seat. She hurriedly went to the kitchen and grabbed a cloth. She placed it under the facet and twisted it as the water dripped into a _plop-__plop _pattern. She faintly heard Irie call her, but she simply thought it was her imagination playing tricks.

Calmly heading toward the living room, she placed the damp cloth on top of the wooden platter that she held on her hands. A new batch of fresh tea was set in two cups. She thought her husband would want more. However, she knew his mood had drastically changed when she smiled at him as he simply scowled.

"Irie," she called. He completely ignored her.

She wanted to rest the platter on the table and rush toward his side; instead, his mother told her that someone was calling her. Irie was merely tired of the busy day he had. Taking that as a reasonable excuse to his sudden cold nature, she retreated to her spot and settled the platter on the coffee table. On her knees, she began to clean up her mess.

The person who called earlier was someone she would much rather avoid. She couldn't in the end. He was her friend; he will always be her friend. Scrubbing harder at the wooden texture, she briefly looked at her phone and noticed that his name had faded into the background as _one missed call. _

She knew she was overreacting to Keita's behavior. Soon, he would realize that she never had feelings for him and let her go. She gathered up her courage and decided to call him when everyone left the living room. In two hours, she was left alone in the kitchen, no one to hear her conversation with a man in love with her.

Irie, especially, could never know of Keita's love. It would tarnish their relationship completely, something that would break her heart into a million of pieces. She returned the call and waited for Keita to answer.

_He is just a friend. Only a friend_, she thought, but she never realized how much she was beginning to see her friend in a different light. She concentrated on the dial tones in the background, forcing the memory of his lips possessing her own in aggression from clouding her mind.

"_Hello_."

She gasped at his voice and nearly dropped the phone in her hand. Gripping it tightly, she answered, "Keita? You called?"

"_I was beginning to wonder when you will realize that you forgot something important."_

"What?" She imagined what he could be referring to.

"_It seems you dropped your books. I managed to pick them up."_

She remembered that she did indeed drop them to the ground in a fit of rage. She never presumed that her stupid act would make her panic for tomorrow.

"_You do know that the report is due tomorrow, right?"_

Kotoko knew that for a fact. She didn't know what to do. Her report needed to be revised once more before she turned it in.

"_How about I give it to you?" _Her eyes widen at the idea. Being alone with Keita wasn't the brightest thing to do. Still, she continued to think about the possibility of meeting up with him. She glanced at the time. It was barely eight-thirty.

"I don't know."

"_Don't worry. I know a place near your house."_

"Maybe I'll pick it up before class," she suggested.

"_Well, I wish you could've told me earlier. I'm kind of close to your house." _

Withholding a gasp, she brought a hand to her mouth. "I—"

"_Don't worry. I know. Irie wouldn't like that, huh?" _He laughed for a bit. She didn't find it humorous._ "I'll meet you a block from where you live." _

"Um... Well... Alright, I guess," she agreed in the end. And with that, he hanged up.

Fear never felt so unwelcoming. It made her heart accelerate in panic. She nervously tapped her screen with a fingernail. The sound of her nail hitting the metal contraption soothed her to a large degree. Calmly, she assessed the situation. Keita was simply going to drop off her things to her. Nothing more.

Yet, why did it feel as if tonight would change everything?

In the dark corner of where her eye could not see, another pair of ears listened acutely to her conversation.

xx

She found him under the lamppost, a block from where her house laid. Wearing a light red long-sleeve shirt, he appeared cozy in his blue jeans and brown boots as a light wind hit them both. She pulled her white cardigan closer to her body, her hands were wrapped and secured at her sides, as she fought from chattering her teeth.

Discreetly as she could, she managed to escape from her husband's detection. A part of her found it evidently easy. Perhaps, Irie was awake and was looking for her. But she knew that he couldn't be awake when he had an important test early in the morning tomorrow.

She blamed her uneasiness on her fear. It was making her glance every so often behind her to ensure that her husband was not secretly following her. By the time she reached Keita, she noticed tucked beneath his arm her books. A smile broke free from her lips.

She casually waved toward his direction. He bent over and set her books on the ground. Questioning his actions, she looked at him in puzzlement.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Her question was never answered. He brought her to his arms, feeling the warmth of his body radiate against her own. Shocked, she pushed him slightly away, wanting to confirm her suspicion that she noticed earlier in his expression. That's when she knew she made a mistake by meeting up with him late at night. In his eyes, she saw the emotion she feared the most from him—lust.

Before she could push him away, and gather her books from the ground, he pulled her in as much as he could and stole her breath away when he smashed his lips against hers. Astonished she did not move, not even when he began to rest his hands on her hips to protest. His lips were soft and alluring. His tongue swept across her bottom lip, demanding entrance. Pooling at her stomach, she felt it. The unfathomable lust returned at full force in butterfly kisses spreading upward toward her chest.

And for the second time, she opened her mouth and returned the kiss.

Temptation never felt so sweet.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: This is actually a short chapter. I just needed to get that flow back into this story. Thank you for reviews, favorites, follows, and reading.

* * *

**Chapter Four **

Kotoko knew she was in a shitload of trouble when she pressed her lips against his. At that moment, temptation meant everything to her. If only she could feel him, just once, she would be happy. And she was, if only for a brief moment. When realization began to sink in, she knew that she'd a couple of seconds to save herself from the horror of being caught.

She opened her eyes, never realizing it was closed at first. Her heart began to beat rapidly, shaking her away from the lust and into the dark cloud of fear. Pushing him harshly away that he stumbled, she looked behind her, having a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach that someone was watching. She dreaded it to be Irie.

What could she possibly say to him?

"I was merely testing his lips to see if it were soft?"

Kotoko could see his expression already—angry with a heavy scowl.

She then moved away from Keita and quickly grabbed her belongings. He kept insisting that she stayed with him, but she denied his request with a firm shake of her head.

"Kotoko, please, Irie doesn't deserve you!" he began to shout, causing her to look around. She didn't want her husband to hear the younger man. It would worsen her relationship with her husband, and most likely, end in a nasty divorce. That was a future that she didn't want to be in. Irie meant everything to her—until she began to doubt how much when she looked into Keita's eyes and saw that love that she wanted from her husband.

She was just lonely, that's all. It was a damn good reason why she did what she did. Loneliness was eating at her, making her run to the first person who can give her the love she deserved—in this case, Keita slowly became her comfort.

In the end, she couldn't pursue those negative thoughts. She was putting her marriage on the line by merely smacking her lips with Keita. Her marriage should be proof enough that Irie loved her. Still it made her heart hurt at the struggle of receiving his attention.

"Kotoko, please." He wanted to comfort her and wrap her in those strong arms of his. It made her think about his offer before she gradually denied the chance when she took a small step back, ready to go back to where she belonged.

"Don't go to him. Think about what I can give you," he continued to beg. Her heart squeezed painfully at the sound of his voice pleading for her to stay. Still she would not stay. It would only give Keita false hope that she loved him when in fact she merely had feelings of lust.

She took another step back, larger than the last. Her books were pressed against her chest as a protective barrier, not wanting the other to hear her loud, pounding heart. Keita drew a step forward, prompting her to take a step back. Distance is what she needed. It made her think straight without being distracted by his alluring aroma.

"Kotoko, if you go to him, your life will be hell," he reasoned.

She shook her head, clutching her books tighter to her chest. Big fat tears began to roll down her cheeks, stopping at the tip of her chin, before it plopped to the ground, quietly. There was nothing she could do to stop the tears from flowing. Just thinking about her husband, and how he was innocently sleeping in bed, while she met with another man, hit her hard.

"I can't," she said, her voice breaking. She felt her throat raw every time she sobbed.

"He doesn't love you, Kotoko. Maybe he did in the past, but he doesn't now." He threw her another reason to leave Irie. And it was a good damn reason to make her rationalize and agree with him, but she still will not give in to temptation. She shook her head more rapidly, getting a headache from doing so.

"You don't understand. I love him, and that's enough for me," she reasoned firmly.

Keita narrowed his eyes and lowered his arms. "You think that's enough?"

She kept silent, not wanting to have this conversation with him.

"Do you!" he shouted at her silent response. She cringed and brought a finger to her lips, shushing him.

"Please, he'll hear you." She then turned her head toward her home as it lay there, devoid of lights. Not a single soul knew that she was outside, which she wanted to keep it that way.

"So, what? Let him hear me! Let that cold bastard hear me!" he screeched, loudly on the top of his lungs. There were a few houses down the street that began to turn on their lights. Even the dogs that they owned began to bark. Kotoko panicked, her eyes going wide with fear. She turned on her heel and raced toward her home. Keita followed behind, saying her name, "Kotoko, wait!"

When he reached up to her, he touched her shoulder for a moment. She whirled at his contact and dropped her books, carelessly. Moaning at her stupidity, she went down on her knees and scrambled to pick them up, each finger wrapping against the hardcover book and pulling it toward her knees. Keita silently helped her, offering her the papers, which she wrote notes on, that slipped from inside. She snatched each one from his hands quickly, not wanting to be around him.

She wanted him gone, far away where she didn't have to see him, in fact. Staring at him only made her realize how much she'd fallen into the one thing she vowed to never do. She'd made an oath on her wedding day, the words, "I offer you my solemn vow to be your faithful partner," rang in her head. Now, she heard a chant in her ear, visualizing the feral grin of the devil himself, whisper, "Lair."

She took in a breath, needing to keep herself compose in front of her young friend. But what she really needed to do was to head back into her comforting home, away from the chilly night.

"Kotoko, I'm sorry." He had the last book she needed to make her escape. Quickly, she swiped it from his hand and stood up, making sure the books were secured in her arms.

"Save it, Keita. I don't want to see you at the moment." She was breaking from the inside, and she didn't know how much longer she'd before she burst into heavy tears and let them consume her whole. Keita couldn't see her pain. He was too focused on trying to make her stay with him.

He grabbed her by the arm before she could leave from his sight, cursing him for doing so under her breath.

"You can't run back to him. Irie doesn't deserve you."

"And you do!" she shouted back, the last threads of being composed snapped. She tugged her arm out his grasp. "You don't know what I'm going through," she added, softly. "You don't know what it's like being treated like shit."

"I do know what's like," Keita assured.

She chuckled at that. "No, you don't. You just want a good fuck."

"Kotoko, don't talk like that. It's not you."

She gave another short laugh. "So, now you know me. You don't know who I am. Irie has known me for years. You've only known me for a few months. That's nothing compared to him!" Her voice began to rise along with her anger. In the background, she heard the dogs barking loudly at their presence. "I love him! I don't love you! I love him! Him!"

"Kotoko, calm down."

Keita wrapped his arms around her body, securing her tightly with his chest. She began to move around, fighting against his hold, as she dropped her stuff on the ground, once more. She gave up as few seconds past, sobbing uncontrollably.

"I miss my husband. I want him back to normal," she confessed. Revealing her true feelings to him brought her to relax under his hold. She needed that; she needed to tell someone of the unfairness of her life. After all, it never felt good bottling up her pain. It always made her gag in the morning at the deceit she displayed to everyone by giving a cheery smile when in truth she was dying inside at her husband's cruel behavior.

She didn't deserve this, not at all. If she'd known that her marriage would've ended up like this, she would've not given her heart to Irie, at all.

Soon, she had no more tears to shed, as she grew slack against Keita's form. Seeing the books on the ground, he picked them up from her, stripping her away from the comfort she needed. He then placed them in her arms, where she, once again, secured them against her chest. It pained her to hold them. They were quite heavy.

"I need to go home," she muttered, almost quietly.

"Stay with me. I can take you away from here," he begged once more. She then turned her head toward him and looked into his eyes. Those dark eyes were quite beautiful to look at. Still it wasn't Irie's eyes in the end.

She pulled away from his presence and made her way toward her home, the tap of her shoes following behind her.

"Kotoko," he called one last time.

She stopped and turned to look at him.

"Can I at least take you out tomorrow night?"

"Keita, I—"

He cut her off when he added, "I just want to hang out with a good friend."

She contemplated for a few seconds before she gave him her answer, "I'll see you tomorrow in class, Keita." She paused for a moment when she noticed his rejected face. "…and tomorrow night," she confirmed, taking away his doubts.

He broke into a soft smile, tucked his hands into his jeans, and began to walk back.

"Take care, Kotoko, and call me, even if you just want to chat. I'll be there for you, always."

He then turned away from her and crossed the street. She did the same after she saw him disappear around the corner. Somehow, hanging out with him the next day didn't seem as a swell idea. But she wanted her relationship with him to be as platonic as possible. There was nothing that she desired from Keita.

Nothing at all.

She'd Irie to bring out her lustful desire. No else can make her melt the way he brought her pleasure. There was absolutely no one that brought her to that blissful heaven of ecstasy—until she began to fantasize the possibility of sharing her bed with Keita.

That should've been a sign to avoid Keita at all cost, but Kotoko was stubborn to believe that tomorrow would be just another regular day, minus the drama.

xx

Irie saw what happened.

He saw it—and he didn't do jackshit.

He simply stood nearby, watching his wife press herself against another man. It made him seethe, that his knuckles turned white when he stabbed his fingernails into his palms. He knew something was going on the moment she left from their bedroom dressed. The little vixen thought he was asleep. How he wanted to go over there and surprise her; to catch her reaction and watch as that smile fade and fall into a face of horror.

But he didn't.

How he'd wanted to push her aside and punch the living daylights out of the other man, _Keita_ to be more exact, and taint his olive skin with crimson. And then he would go to his wife and he would fuck her against the ground, making sure Keita saw how much his wife loved him—and him only.

That's what he wanted to do but he didn't. And he still couldn't understand why.

Then he saw Kotoko push him back and grab her belongings. She tried to run away from him, not wanting to be around the other man she'd in her life. But he heard Keita say loudly to the world, "So, what? Let him hear me! Let that cold bastard hear me," which made his wife panic and grow angry at him.

The dogs on his street began to bark loudly at their presence. He saw a few lights turn on, but no one dare look outside to see what caused the ruckus. It didn't matter, though. His wife began to run toward their home. He cautiously slipped into the shadows, under the broken lamppost. It was the only place on the street that was securely dark.

He watched as Keita touched her on the shoulder, causing her to drop her books when she whirled on her heels to confront him. And every time he saw him get closer to his wife, he was losing his patience by the second, that by time she rose on her feet with her books in hand, he was about to approach them—until he heard her say, "I love him! I don't love you! I love him! Him!"

And that was all the reassurance he needed.

He even allowed Keita to embrace her when she broke down, for he was deeply assured that his wife will never cheat. His wife, as determined as she was, was never good at keeping her emotions at bay, however. It was one of those traits that he hated about her, yet loved when it made her face glow under the sunlight and radiate under the stars.

He remembered clearly of the time when he argued with her over her lack of keeping things organized. He'd enough of her bad habits that he put her down, making her feel his frustration when he couldn't find an important document that he needed to turn in the next day. She'd cried, apologizing over and over again. She even surprised him when she'd brought out a box from underneath their bed, containing his things. It even held his important document.

That afternoon became the best makeup sex he'd ever had. Even when she cried and apologized against his lips, he loved the way her tears cradled her face that he licked them off, taking in the salty substance. Quietly, she'd stopped crying, and when he rested on his elbows to take in her expression, he'd found her to be shocked at what he'd done.

"Don't do that," she'd said to him like a breathless whisper. He'd simply smirked and did it again.

Even at the moment, he was smirking at the thought. When he returned back into the house, he slipped out of his shoes and placed them aside. He then walked barefooted to his room, taking off the jacket that kept him warm, and hanged it in the closet. By the time he got comfortable in the bed and rested on his side, he heard the door open and close with a click.

Pretending to wake up, he squinted his eyes and frowned when he saw his wife enter.

"What are you doing out of bed?" He turned on the lamp and looked at the clock to add to his act. "It's going to be eleven." He then looked at her, taking in her attire with new eyes. "What are you doing dressed?"

She kept silent for a moment before she settled her books on the desk, making him question their existence. "You didn't have those books before. Did you go somewhere?"

Another minute of silence went by. He watched her lick her tainted lips, waiting patiently to hear what lie she would say to him. She then looked at him, and smoothly said, "Tomoko had my books. She was waiting for me outside. I texted her after you went to sleep. I remembered dropping them and I needed them because I have to turn in an assignment tomorrow."

"Is that so?" he questioned, hugging his pillow tightly against his face. How he wanted to surprise her that he knew of her little act. How he wanted to fling his pillow at her for lying at his face. Instead, he held the pillow tighter, restraining his rage.

"Yeah. That's what happened." She kept her voice steady, normal, as if she lied before. He wondered how long it took her to perfect her lies that it came out as the truth. She then gave him a smile and moved toward him and pecked him on the cheek. He almost pushed her away when he felt those sinful lips touch his flesh, but he controlled himself, not wanting to blow his cover away.

"Go to bed. You have a test tomorrow," she said to him, gently.

Moving away from him and stripping off her clothes, he watched her, quietly.

She rested her cardigan to a side and slipped off her shirt. He hungrily took in her flat stomach before she unclasped her bra and revealed her small breasts. She then slipped her pants off and bended over, displaying her ass toward his direction. He shut his eyes from looking at her, painfully. His penis was as hard as a rock. He needed to think about something else, even though he wanted to bend her over and take her from behind.

He knew couldn't, though. Not when he'd a test tomorrow. But he promised himself afterward, most presumably when night came tomorrow again, he would take her as many times as he would like and make her cry his name. And he would make her remember who she belonged to every time he pounded into her. He would make her remember, that's for sure. Even if he had to make her scream it.

After all, Kotoko Aihara was his, and no one else's. Not even Keita's.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five **

Kotoko fidgeted in bed, but kept still when Irie moved, humming in annoyance. Three seconds went by and all was quiet again. The fan above her swished rapidly as the circulated air hit her bare flesh. She brought her fingernails to her lips and chewed on a nail.

Nervous since six o'clock in the morning, Kotoko had a hard time going back to sleep, but when she looked at the silver digital clock resting on the nightstand and the red led light shining 6:20 she knew sleep was out of the question. In ten minutes, the alarm would go off, awaking Irie from his slumber. And that was what worried her.

Her phone flashed on and slept in a second. She pulled it to her face and read the message:

_Sorry for bothering you so early. I was hoping for lunch we could hang out together, just the two of us. I feel a bit awkward asking this, but I just want to make it less awkward hanging out with a friend tonight._

Quickly, she typed back, fingers moving rapidly. The sound of the buttons was heard in the background. She really hoped the fan tuned out the sound and not bother Irie anymore as he moved once more. She paused in her action and moved her fingers quickly and pressed send.

_Sure, we can. I feel the same way. See you later then._

He sent her a smiley face in return.

Irie moved in his sleep. She hid her phone under her pillow and went still. Resting on her side, she focused on the movement behind her. He stirred once more before he turned and moved a hand above her, aiming toward the clock. She shut her eyes immediately, not wanting for him to know that she was awake earlier than him.

He cursed lightly under his breath and placed the clock back on the stand. He moved his chest away from her back and removed the sheets off his legs. Kotoko moved around, playing the part that she was awaking from her slumber. When she opened her eyes, and noticed the time, she looked at Irie and squinted.

"What are you doing? We still have five minutes left."

"I need to shower."

"There is still time for that later." She threw herself back in the sheets and pretended to rest.

She could feel his eyes rest on her back. Then she felt a chill when he pulled the sheet away, stripping her from the warmth it provided. She opened her eyes instantly and rested on her elbows.

"Get up," he said.

She groaned and planted her feet to the ground. Rubbing her eye, she looked at him and yawned. He stood and padded toward their bathroom. She followed behind him, pasting through the arc opening to a study room, holding Irie's desk and many books saved in the bookshelves. There was a couch near a side and a coffee table in front of it.

And there in a corner was a small hallway that led toward the bathroom. She opened a cabinet and took two towels out. Irie, meanwhile, flicked on the light to the bathroom and moved toward another door that led to the toilet. He turned on the light in there and shut the door behind him.

She put the towels nearby and moved toward the mirror. With her teeth brushed, and hands washed after using the restroom, she sat on the porcelain counter and watched Irie rinse his mouth.

Yawning, she placed a hand over her mouth.

"I'm tired still." He ignored her.

"Turn on the water in the shower," he ordered gently.

Listening to his request, she hopped off the counter and pulled the shower knob to a side. Water rushed out of the shower head. She placed her hand under the cascading water. Cold water hit her flesh. She moved the knob more to the left. Again, she placed her hand in the water. This time it was warm.

Then, against the silk fabric, feeling each touch with a light feather, he slid his hand across her stomach down to the hem of her nightgown. He pulled it up and tucked his hand under her underwear. She could feel his fingers reach the center of her core, but he stopped and kissed her neck, bringing his breath toward the shell of her ear.

He bucked his hip forward. She responded with a moan.

"I'm only going to say this once."

She could hear his voice, but it felt so far away, even though his lips were near her ear. Her concentration focused on one thing only: the sensation—the thrill, the rush, of being sexually wanted hit her and gripped her intensely. Focus on him, her mind yelled, focus on him. Still she couldn't, not when he flicked at her clitoris. Shuddering, she threw her head back, letting it rest on his chest.

He pulled his hand away from her throbbing vagina and rested it against her stomach, before he moved his hand and rested his warm palm on her bare breast. She opened her eyes. Water continued to run, being wasted for nothing. She didn't bother turning it off. It would take her away from his warmth.

"What is it?" she asked, breathless.

He twiddle her nipple with a forefinger and thumb, but paused in his action when he heard her question. Pulling his hand away from her bare breast, and letting her gown rest around her thigh, he moved his mouth closer to her ear.

"Turn off that damn phone."

And like the snap of her fingers, the sensation faded, replaced by disbelief.

"What?"

"Oh, and make sure Keita does not bug you anymore. I don't want to see him around you." He rested his chin on her shoulder. "Is that clear, _my wife_?" He placed a lot of emphasis around her title with scorn.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Just as you don't know that I know that Keita is becoming more than just a friend," he said.

She wanted to pull away from him, but he held his grip around her waist, and dug his chin deeper into her shoulder.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"You lie so well, Kotoko. When did you start to lie so perfectly?"

She turned to face him when he let her go and found him stripping off his clothes, shedding each piece from his flesh, before he stood in front of her naked with a throbbing erection.

He entered the shower stall and shut the glass door behind. No doubt he began to adjust the water. He cursed when the first icy drops hit his flesh, but felt relieved when the heat began to subside and his erection began to slacken.

She looked in the shower stall when she heard him curse. He rarely used foul language. But when he did, she knew that he was angry. He lowered his head and cursed under his breath once more. He then moved his hand and pounded against the shower tile.

_Pound. Pound. Pound._

It rang heavily in the air.

_Pound. Pound. Pound._

He didn't stop, not even when his skin tore, and blood began to mix in the water. She could still hear the sound as she sat on the bed, waiting for him to stop.

And a minute later, he did.

xx

He was like a ticking bomb waiting to explode. Any second all his frustrations that he bottled up inside would begin to show. Perfectly, like he had done so many times, he pushed those thoughts aside, and concentrated on passing the exam.

Kotoko crept near the side of his vision, trying to gain his attention. He looked at her for a moment, watching her slip her hand into his. Her small palm contrasted against his heavily, but fitted perfectly. He then pulled her out of the train and into the pushing and shouting of people trying to get to the exit or trying to take the train.

He gripped his bag, not wanting to lose any essential item. He then noticed her. Her milk-white face grimaced when a man bumped his elbow into her face. Pure accident on the man's side; still it made Irie rather angry at the display. He pulled her closer to him, as close as he could, and pushed through the heavy crowd toward the escalator.

The morning sky, and the high buildings, was like heaven to his eyes. Away from the crowd, he could finally settle down his racing heart and let his overprotective barrier over Kotoko vanish. She was safe. That's all that matter at the moment.

He noticed how relieved she was from escaping the traffic down below the train station. She never wanted to face it again, she said. Unfortunately for her, they had to return to take the train back home.

He led the way toward the university. She followed behind, obediently, and never said a word—until she noticed with displeasure that the bandage around his hand began to redden.

"Irie—" He glanced at her. "—your hand. It's bleeding."

He stopped and examined it, and indeed the bandage began to fade away from its original color into a deeper red. The stinging in his hand returned. It was becoming uncomfortable by the second. Slowly, he moved to a side, away from the sidewalk where everyone rushed toward their destination, and removed the bandage, revealing the bruised flesh.

To his surprise, Kotoko was prepared for this occasion. She pulled out a small bag of medical supplies from her over-sized purse. Now, he completely understood why she brought that thing, as he liked to call her purse, and slung it over her shoulder.

Disinfecting the wound, and wrapping the bandage securely around his hand, she then lowered her head and planted a kiss on the back of his hand. Her gesture reminded him of his mother as she kissed his wounds when he was younger to lessen the pain. And how his mother would smile as Kotoko was doing now, completely taking the pain with her.

"Feel better?" his mother would say.

And for that moment, he did. The pain was bearable enough to see her smile.

He shook himself from those memories and concentrated on Kotoko.

"You should have one of the doctors on campus inspect that," she suggested. She still held his hand comfortably in between her two palms.

"I'll be fine." He took his hand out of her hold and laid it near his side. "Let's go."

She followed behind him closely, watching with concern toward his torn hand. And seeing her worried about him made the pain bearable to withstand and allowed him to take her hand with his uninjured one. Her eyes were wide for fraction, but in less than a second, she smiled and squeezed his hand, her cheeriness taking over his calm mood.

He felt happy being around her as his troubles faded away, no longer subjecting his mind with riddles of preoccupation toward his wife's behavior last night. When he arrived on campus, and took the test, he was beyond thrilled to escape from the classroom and meet his wife during lunch hour. But like dormant volcano shaking from its eternal slumber, he felt his blood boil when he noticed from across the pond Kotoko and Keita sitting on a bench, talking animatedly among each other.

It wouldn't have bothered him if he specifically expressed his disdain toward Keita in the morning toward Kotoko. It wouldn't have bothered him if his first threat was for her to stop speaking to him.

He then watched as Keita pressed a hand against her kneecap and laughed. He'd seen enough. Kotoko would face her punishment, not physically, of course—he was not that type of man. His mother raised him better. No, this punishment would be far worse.

He just needed time to execute it.

xx

She knew she shouldn't be talking to Keita after witnessing Irie's display of anger in the shower stall. Even then, he'd warned her of not speaking to Keita or else she would face the consequence. Although, what was the consequence, she didn't know. And she didn't want to find out.

"Kotoko," he called.

"Hm?"

"Are you still thinking about your husband?" He gave a faint smile, no sign of jealousy appeared anywhere on his expression. She smiled back and shook her head.

"No, I'm just tired still."

"Sorry about that. I wanted to tell you as soon as possible. I just didn't know when would be the proper time."

"Any time is fine—just not that early. Irie wasn't happy that my phone woke him up."

That smile was still there even when she mentioned Irie's name. "I bet he wasn't," he commented.

She was pushing her luck.

She shouldn't be here with Keita. But he was a simple friend, nothing more, nothing less. There was not a shred of interest she had toward him, even though she couldn't say the same for him, and pursued to speak to him levelly as friends. Sometimes, when she was alone and she stared at Keita for a moment, she couldn't help but feel a small part of attraction toward him.

No, she rid of herself of those thoughts. Keita was a friend, she chanted in her head, a friend, a friend, a friend, and nothing more. But when she looked up from her hands and into his smiling face, she saw more than just a friend. She saw a man with olive skin and sharp brown eyes staring directly into her eye, reaching for a part of her that wanted to rebel against her husband and start a secret affair.

She withheld a gasp and pulled away. His lips were quite close to hers. When did she move toward him and why? And in front of public, how shame rocked her to the core. Hopefully, nobody saw. She could never see Irie if someone did and told him.

How would he react? What would his punishment be if caught?

Irie would never hit her. That was unlike him. He's a master at words, though. And he definitely knew how to keep his distance when angry. She didn't want the cold shoulder again, not when she finally regained his attention after weeks of his silent treatment.

And to this day, she still couldn't comprehend why he grew so distant.

They headed back to the classroom and were interrogated by their friends on their sudden disappearance. She calmly explained that she went to see her husband, but did not find him, and instead had good chat with Keita. They easily bought it—although, why did Motoki looked at her as if she was hiding a secret?

Surely, he couldn't know. It was her fear that was tricking her mind to believe that her friend knew of something. Fear—her fear was growing, and she was deeply suspicious of everyone around her.

She didn't do anything, she swore in her mind. She didn't fall to temptation. Then she remembered last night and the forbidden kiss she gave toward Keita. The classroom felt suffocating; she needed to concentrate. Nursing was important. These problems needed to be pushed aside.

And, slowly, without fear, she concentrated on her instructor and ignored the beating of her heart. Still she couldn't help but ponder: how did Irie know exactly that Keita was the one who text her in the morning?

xx

The hour was late.

Eight o'clock to be more specific.

She was unable to make a decision. Open the door or not—how she appeared rattled with the choice. Punishment would have to wait. There was still time for him to reveal that he knew everything, aside from the simple text messages she received from Keita.

He glanced at his hand and tapped against the small screen of her phone. Kotoko seemed to be in a rush to have forgotten the most important item. And with his curiosity growing, he did looked inside her phone, only to find messages that contained nothing important to him.

Yes, there were a few from Keita. But each message from him pertained to their upcoming assignment or about the study groups they were preparing in the future. Nothing in his messages revealed his true intention. But he knew what type of man Keita was.

A man like him would not give up so easily on attaining someone like his wife.

He needed to put the younger man in his place, once and for all.

She took in a breath to release a great sigh. As minutes passed, she would never make up her mind. Irie knew that he had to intervene in order for his plan to work. The screen on her phone lit up.

He checked it, while he heard his wife grumble about being nervous and being afraid of opening the door made her seem silly—he agreed to that. He read the message and deleted it. He moved his feet down the stairs, watching her shake her head and calling herself an idiot. When he tapped his foot against the solid floor, she froze on the spot and turned her head.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She looked everywhere, unable to meet his eyes. She was also searching in her mind the proper lie to tell him.

"I am going to hang out with a friend."

"Who?"

She remained silent. It didn't matter if she responded. He took a step toward her.

"You forgot something." He revealed her phone, watching her expression turn pale. "I thought you might need it."

She gazed upon it in a trance.

"Don't you want it?"

She nodded her head, slowly.

"Then take it."

Taking a few hesitant steps, she reached for her phone, her fingers trembling. She was within reach of her phone, just a bit more. But in a blink of an eye, he snatched her wrist and brought her close to him. She withheld a breath and waited for his next move.

Face to face, he could imagine her heart drumming loudly at how close she was near to him. Even his own heart began to pace, as something below his stomach began to stir awake. He told himself that he deserved this. With all the pressure of studying, and dealing with her lies, he deserved the chance to release himself.

Tonight would be his night.

And it certainly would be hers as well.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Kotoko rose from her seat and saved her pencils in her purse and slid the notebook afterward. Carrying her books close to her chest, she glanced to a side and found Keita gone. She searched for him throughout the small crowd huddle around the exit, but she did not find him.

She turned her attention to Tomoko. "Have you seen Keita?"

Tomoko searched for him out of instinct. "I saw him a moment ago. He probably left."

"Oh... Okay. Well... I'll see you around then."

She waved a hand, and in return, her friend smiled.

"See you next week, Kotoko."

The crowd had dispersed around the exit. She left the classroom and walked down the corridor, her shoes tapping away the silence shrouded around her. She heard faintly the idle chatter nearby as a group of friends walked in front of her, lost in their own conversation.

She walked around them and headed toward Irie's location. To her surprise, Motoki rested against the wall, waiting patiently for someone. Or maybe he was waiting for her husband to ogle and offer his companionship. But when his eyes rested on hers, she somehow knew that he was waiting for her as he eased off the wall and awaited her approach.

"Hey, are you heading out tonight?" she asked.

"Nah, I'm heading home. What about you? What are you doing tonight?"

Kotoko gave him a smile. "Spend some time with my hubby."

Motoki glanced down the hallway, and then gave a knowing smile. "Are you sure about that?"

Kotoko perked an eyebrow. "What makes you think otherwise?"

He still kept that know-it-all smile. It irked her that she knew nothing at what he was suggesting.

"Trust me, he has plans," he said.

At first, she had thought he was toying with her. But he then grabbed her by the arms and spun her around. Down the hallway, Irie stood near the classroom door, chatting to a woman Kotoko had never met. Tall with a lean physique, she had an acquittal face. Her dark hair was pulled in a low ponytail, and she was dressed professionally—dark slacks with a pretty blouse.

From where she stood, Kotoko could barely hear their conversation. But she knew the woman was no threat to her. Irie was a loyal man, incapable of cheating.

In a few seconds, the woman left down the hallway. Irie returned to the classroom after her departure.

Motoki then released her.

She quickly needed to explain her husband's actions, not wanting a misinterpretation. The last thing she wanted was rumors that her husband was cheating when clearly that was not the case.

"She's a friend. She probably invited him out to eat with the rest of their classmates."

"Would a friend pull you to a side and talk to you when no one is around?" he countered.

"Do you want me to worry?" She turned to look at him. "I trust Irie."

"Do you really?"

"Yes, of course," she said quickly. Irie would never cheat on her, she had thought to herself. But still Motoki had managed to fill her mind with doubts. "They are friends. Nothing is going to happen," she insisted, mostly to her benefit.

Even she found that to be a lie.

Motoki apprehensively looked at her. "Are you sure you're not jealous?"

Shaking her head, she said, "No."

But, in fact, she was. Motoki did not need to know that, however. It was just an instinct reaction to what she had seen. Jealously was common to occur in relationships.

"I'm going to go." She no longer wanted to think about the other woman. "Oh, by the way, have you seen Keita?"

"He left with Marina," he answered.

"Oh… Thanks for telling me."

Disappointed, she turned on her heel and concealed her confused expression. All day, Keita had ignored her, without giving a clue to what she had done. She had wanted to talk to him in private, but it seemed she would have to call him later tonight, if he responded to her calls that is.

"Kotoko?"

She turned halfway, quizzically looking at her friend.

"You know you can tell me anything right?"

It was as if Motoki was hinting at something. But she didn't pay much attention to him, not when her mind was thinking about someone else.

"I know."

He gave her a soft smile. "Take care."

He glided down the hallway to the exit with relative ease. She liked how confident he was in his steps.

She headed toward the opposite direction and entered Irie's classroom. With a black, slim briefcase, he closed it shut and snapped the locks on. He held it in one hand, wrapping his fingers against the cool handle.

"You ready?" she asked.

He slipped past her with little effort. Ignored, she hugged her books tighter to her chest and retreated from the doorway to follow after her husband.

xx

Kotoko closed the door behind her and bended to remove her shoes. Resting them next to her husband's, she placed on her slippers and watched as her husband headed up the stairs in slow steps.

"Do you want anything to eat?" she asked.

He answered harshly, "No."

He then disappeared around the corner, his steps fading behind the slam of a door. She moved her feet forward and dumped her books on the coffee table and her purse on the couch. Heading into the kitchen, she heated up a bowl of leftover ramen.

"What am I going to do?" she mumbled to herself.

Kotoko had thought that after last night things would've run much smoother now between Irie and her. Instead, he had grown distant and pushed her away when she had wanted to give him a hug this morning.

He had told her a little after, "I need to get going," as if last night had meant nothing to him.

She felt disappointed in him. In high hopes, she was waiting for the morning sex; the opportunity to see his face above her just like last night. With soft eyes, he had gazed at her from above, resting on elbows. He had pushed away her bangs from her sweaty face and had planted a kiss along her jawline. He was delicate. He was passionate. And for once, he had shown concern.

He had showered her with love and brutally took it away the next day.

The microwave dinged and distracted her from her thoughts. She slowly pulled out her bowl of ramen and walked toward the coffee table, resting in the living room. Returning to the kitchen, she closed the microwave door and grabbed a pair of chopsticks.

On the floor, she grabbed the remote nearby and turned on the television, setting it on a drama program. The dramatic music blocked out the silence as she slurped her noodles and concentrated on the television screen.

Irie entered the living room area when the program became intense. He had a hand tucked in his jean pocket as he glanced at the screen.

"Your mother made some ramen. It's on the stove," she informed.

He responded, "I'm not hungry."

He had taken the empty couch beside her and focused on watching the program. Two of the main characters were in a deep confrontation. Any second one of them would snap and shove the other off the edge.

A shocking tune played as a commercial took the screen. Kotoko pushed her bowl to a side and looked at her husband.

"You're acting strange today."

He chose not to respond.

She asked, "If something was bothering you, you would tell me, right?"

"It depends if you did the same."

She looked away for a moment. Could she really tell him that his attitude was what was bothering her? What would his response be if she told him that? Would it be something terrible that will ruin their marriage?

"Well, do you have something that is bothering you, Kotoko?" he asked, almost as if he was taunting her.

"No," she denied.

She did not want to face the result to her action; in other words, losing Irie was not worth telling her troubles.

"I don't either," he responded.

He stood up from his seat and headed to the backyard. Alone, Kotoko placed her hands on her face and sighed. The noodles turned cold in a matter of minutes. She stood up and dumped them in the trash, no longer hungry.

She did not see her husband again until 7:30 rolled by. Wearing a button-up crisped, white shirt, he strapped a black tie around his neck and then placed on the coat. He looked dashing in a suit.

"Where are you going?"

He never dressed that fancy unless there was an important matter to attend.

"Out."

He headed to the main entrance. She followed behind his trail of cologne.

"Where?"

Slipping on his dress shoes, he opened the door.

"I'll be back later."

And without telling her where he was going, he closed the door behind his exit and entered a taxi. She returned to the living room and muted the television. Taking several breaths, she rested on the couch, her back pressed against the cushions. She blankly looked at the ceiling.

Her phone then vibrated against the coffee table. She reached for it and answered the call, without checking the caller id.

"Hello?"

"_Kotoko, we'll be home tomorrow morning."_

Hearing Mrs. Irie's voice on the other end lifted her sadden mood somewhat.

"I understand. I'll tell Irie."

"_Oh, by the way, if you look under your bed, you will find a pair of sexy lingerie. Trust me, you will love them, and so will Irie."_

She heard Yuuki shout in the background, _"Don't talk about this stuff in front of me!"_

Mrs. Irie laughed, unbothered that her son had listened.

"_Don't worry, Yuuki. I'll buy your future wife some sexy lingerie to make you happy."_

"_Mom!" _His voice shrieked behind the line, no doubt embarrassed.

"_Anyway, take care and have some fun."_

"You too."

"_Bye-bye."_

Mrs. Irie hung up.

Kotoko rested her phone on the table. But not a second later, her phone vibrated to life. She rolled off the couch and sat on her knees. This time she checked the caller id.

It was Keita who was calling.

Flipping her phone open, she answered, "Keita, what's going on?"

"_I'm outside your door."_

He hung up after that.

Shocked, she placed her phone on the table and rushed to her feet. In a quick stride, she opened the main door, and surely enough, he stood with both hands in his jean pockets.

"What are you doing here?"

He quickly explained, "I came to see you, even though I shouldn't after you ditched me last night."

She gasped. How could she have forgotten that last night she had plans with him? She pressed her fingers against her forehead, ashamed that she didn't even called him to explain.

Then he said, "I am a little upset but not over that. I'm upset because you told me that I couldn't see you anymore."

She jerked away from shame and into confusion. "I never told you that."

He persisted, "Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

He pulled out his phone and located the message that she 'supposedly' sent him. He quickly handed his phone over to her when he found it.

"There is the text message to prove it."

She took the phone from his hand. The message no doubt came from her phone. How was it possible? She drew away from the door, reading the message over and over, as if she was searching for a clue. Keita entered the house and shut the door behind him.

She turned to him. "I didn't—"

Then it clicked. Her husband had her phone last night for a moment. Could it be that he sent a text message to Keita? Could her husband do such a thing?

"Kotoko?"

She snapped to reality.

"I'm sorry, Keita. I was drinking last night with Irie. I wanted to text you and tell you that I wouldn't make it, but I was angry."

He frowned. "Why were you angry?"

She forced a smile through her nervousness, not wanting to get caught in her lie. "I was arguing with Irie."

He quickly grew worried. "You guys were arguing?"

Kotoko looked away. "Y-yes."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She then asked, "Are you hungry, by the way?"

Keita nodded his head. "A bit."

And just like that, she had managed to convince him.

She beckoned him to the kitchen and heated up a second bowl of ramen. Sitting on the living room floor, they both lost track of the time as a suspenseful movie played, catching their attention.

The woman in the scene kept inching forward in the dark, searching for the light switch. She was unaware of the trap laid in front of her. Just as her foot moved over the spikes, Kotoko screamed in tune with the main character as Keita had purposely touched her knee and shouted, "Boo!"

He laughed at her face of horror.

"I'm sorry. I had to. You were really into the movie."

She punched him in the arm lightly and scowled softly. He totally caught her off guard. It was not her fault that the scene captivated her as the woman fell into the trap. But still, she could not help but giggle at her silliness.

With his hand still resting on her knee, she was unaware of her husband entering the living room until the lights flashed on. She had turned them off to experience the movie better in the dark. She blinked her eyes several times to adjust to the light as she looked at her husband in shocked.

The color in her face had drained into a pale complexion. She then glanced at Keita and noticed that his hand was still resting on her knee. Following her eye, he slowly removed his hand and looked toward the coffee table.

Kotoko quickly reached for the remote as a loud commercial came to the screen. Shutting it off, she placed the remote back on the table and anxiously waited for her husband to speak. Instead, as the silence grew, so did her nerves.

"Welcome home," she said.

He scoffed and looked away for a moment. "What are you doing here?" he addressed Keita.

Kotoko looked at her friend and watched as he returned Irie's serious gaze with his own. He then stood on his feet and faced her husband directly. Her heart raced uncontrollably in her chest when her husband made the first move and approached them.

* * *

**Notes**: I apologize for being late with the update. I did have writer's block, but as you can see, I overcame it. I will try update regularly, but at the moment, I'm trying to finish one story at a time. But I will try to update weekly, if not monthly.

Thanks for reading and/or reviewing and/or putting this in favorites and/or following.


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